When you're gone
by jennygiraffadil
Summary: Remus refuses to sleep in the bedroom, or wash the shirt in the hall he also has a rather odd collection of dog ornaments. Tonks tries to find out why.


**Title:** When you're gone.  
**Pairing:** Remus/Sirius with implied, one-sided, Tonks/Remus.  
**Disclaimer: **I wish.  
**Summary:** Remus refuses to sleep in the bedroom, or wash the shirt in the hall; he also has a rather odd collection of dog ornaments. Tonks tries to find out why.  
--------

Tonks never asked why Remus slept on the couch in his own apartment. Instead, she just smiled at him as he padded across to the airing cupboard for thick woollen blankets and extra pillows. It wasn't dark, she noted, but it was cold; and the damp denim of her jeans wouldn't make it any better.

"I'll sleep on the floor." he said with a shuffle and had a makeshift bed spread out before she could protest. She didn't say anything but she shrugged out of her jacket with her brows creased together and curled up facing him. Unbelievably, it wasn't awkward.

She could still make out the bookshelves lining the wall, and the shaggy edges of the photo frames hanging lopsidedly. Remus's eyes seemed to be closed as she turned onto her back to stare up at the ceiling and it felt, she thought, like somebody had lived here years ago and nobody had cared enough to clean up since. The dust spread across the top of the radio box and the thin sheen of cobwebs littered by the back door made her worry. 

"How about we stay at my place, tomorrow?" she asked quietly, then, and heard the rustle of muscles against carpet as he shook his head.

"I wouldn't want to intrude."

She was about to argue that it wasn't a problem when she noticed him wrap his arms across his chest and move away slightly. She frowned, pulling at a loose thread, but just nodded along.

It was a long time before she got to sleep that night and when she woke up in the early hours, needing the bathroom, wasn't too surprised to find Remus huddled up with a blank stare and thick bags under his too tired eyes.

--

"Do you ever get lonely?" Tonks asked, back pressed against the meticulous gleam of the kitchen counter. Her shoulders ached, just down the middle, and she was wrapped in an old blazer he'd passed her when the heating didn't kick in.

"Not really," he answered, before she expected, but she missed his smile as he poured hot water into two cups - dunking the tea bags carefully before placing them in the bin.

"Do you?" he turned around and handed her a steaming mug which she took gratefully, "You live alone, too, don't you?"

She nodded and let her hands warm up before daring to take a sip.

Their elbows brushed as they passed the doorway back into the other room and she felt her cheeks warm as she sat on the edge of the sofa. Remus cradled his tea, cross-legged, across from her.

It was different in the day, she thought, how every odd little trinket seemed misplaced through the blinds. Twisted, right at the left, but they were never open enough for it to matter. There was a collection of marble figurines on the top shelf of a unit, dogs, she grinned, painstakingly carved next to a rather vicious looking stone cat. 

"It was Sirius's." he smiled, and she glanced away when she realised he must have been watching her, "James bought it for him on his eighteenth birthday. He loved it, ironically, said it made him remember that the underdog could strike back."

His lips quirked then and she couldn't quite place the expression but she laughed, regardless, and tapped a beat against her knee with her index finger.

"We had a cat when I was growing up" she said, sitting back, "just a moggy that dad found behind the shed. Had to get rid of it when I fell over it on the stairs and broke my arm, though. I think they gave it to this old lady across the road. There were always meows coming from that place."

He almost grinned and she felt her chest tighten happily, forcing down a swig of tea before yelping as it burnt the back of her throat. 

"That shirt looks like it's never seen a wash!" she spluttered suddenly, trying to recover, and giggled under her breath; embarrassed slightly over the choking sounds she'd made and the mad dash to the tap for water.

"Sorry?"

She hadn't meant it, but it had been the first thing that sprung to her mind, and she'd been wondering about it for hours. The black button up slung haphazardly across the back of the chair in the corner. Remus never touched it, he never went near it, but his eyes seemed to glaze over when he caught it in his vision. She wondered if he just didn't know how, or if he really was just that alone.

"Do you want me to do some laundry for you?" she questioned and his mouth snapped shut firmly, glancing away.

"No, no," he replied, "it's quite alright."

If anything, she would have called his tone shaky, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what was off. He stood up before she had time to consider it, or time to ask, and placed his half-full mug on the table. 

"Would you -- excuse me a moment, please."

She watched as he pushed open the door to what she assumed was a bedroom, and, with a confused grimace, wondered why he never let it close. 

--

It was her turn to sleep on the floor that night, she insisted, and he tried feebly to protest, but she slipped under the blankets before he could do anything about it. And he frowned, but laid back on the couch and sighed.

He'd been more withdrawn since he reappeared, and his cheeks looked slightly damp, but she shrugged it off and offered him a glass of mulled wine which he took with nervous fingers and left to stagnate on the counter. They hadn't talked much but the music on the wireless had got them through the next few hours nicely enough. And she was even beginning to find a new appreciation for it all.

He turned to face the wall when she looked and she closed her eyes.

It was turning out to be nothing like she thought love was supposed to be.

--

The only time she got to have a good look around was on the night of the full moon. Remus had managed to sneak out of the door with a wave and a crumpled red sheet. For the next morning, she assumed, for the spring chill.

It wasn't as big as she had first thought, but it was just as interesting, if not lonely. Everything still seemed too old for it's place and the dust on all the door handles made her hesitate.

She slept on the couch that night, despite the temptation to look for a bed, because she knew there must be some reason he was making them sleep away from thick mattresses and open windows. And until he told her, or until she found out, she would consent and go along with it.

Her hand had been inches away from the room she'd seen him disappear into the night before when he stepped through the door and she almost jumped, knocking it closed with a swift blast of air and a stomp of her foot on the wrong floorboard.

She didn't think to say sorry but the look in his eyes and the way his fingers played forlornly about the handle without touching it, she wondered if she really got it at all. 

--

"Are you okay, Remus?" she asked that night, huddled up against the edge of the bookshelf with flakes of dust in her hair, dropping around her eyes when she nudged back too hard.

He didn't answer right away but he shrugged, and smiled.

"_Are you_?" he shot back eventually and it was when she realised she wasn't sure how to answer it that maybe she'd had the wrong idea all along.

--

She caught him trying to edge open the bedroom door well after midnight, donning a pair of muggle gloves and tapping his wand in the most peculiar of places.

She turned and tilted her head, but didn't get up.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she watched him muttering spell after spell under his breath.

"I don't want to smudge the fingerprints."

She didn't quite get what he meant but she never questioned anymore after that. 

--

Harry came over sometimes and she'd watch from the doorway as they hugged before sitting down to tea and nostalgia at the kitchen table. They'd just talk for a while, about everything. Their lives, what was going on in the world, the new wizarding theatre that was in planning to be erected by Diagon Alley. And then the photographs would spill out - all over the table, falling off the edges and into their laps, but they'd grin and laugh and after about an hour or two Remus would set a plate of fresh scones in the middle and they'd nibble around them as they went.

"Do you miss him?" Harry asked one day, around a gulp of bread and raisin. 

Tonks bit her lip as she looked on; Remus stretching against the chair and inhaling sharply.

"Every day." 

--

It was a year before she gave in and pushed her way hastily into the bedroom. They hadn't fought, but he'd shrugged her off as usual and her nails had dug into her palms in disappointment. 

"_What are you hiding_?" she'd snapped, "_What is so important that we can't live like a normal couple_?" 

He'd arched his back then and his muscles tensed all the way up his spine.

"Don't touch the --" he'd started but she was already standing inside.

"Oh."

--

"Was it ever me?" she asked, all of a sudden, laid stiffly on the floor with red rings around her eyes.

"Was it always -- or --"

She trailed off and shoved herself onto her stomach huffily, trying to wash away the warm bile working it's way up her throat.

"Tonks --" he pleaded, kneeling beside her, "I didn't mean--"

"So no?" 

He sighed.

"I'm sorry."

--

She wouldn't leave him, she decided, she wouldn't leave him because she had enough love for the both of them. But she would move out, or insist on another room with something more than a couch or memories. 

She wouldn't leave him because she honestly didn't know how he would cope on his own.

She'd never set foot inside the room again but she often caught him curled up in there, by the back wall, or next to the bed.

"_Sirius_." he had whispered, and it still hit her in all the wrong places when she remembered.

"_Sirius -- he was the last one to close the door. He never let it click into place, he said it was better for the element of surprise. He was the last one to touch it. And he --_"

He'd paused then and swallowed hard past the lump swelling up in his throat. But he never continued after that, just let himself fall over the blankets and smother his cheeks against the crumpled pillow on the left.

"_It was his shirt_." he cried as she turned to leave and she stilled, "_It was his shirt, and this was his pillow, and this was - is --_" 

She'd nodded but couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"_I loved him_," Remus continued, and she leaned against the doorframe, "_I love him_." he corrected, "_I love him so much and it's just - he's gone, he's gone. And it's just so damn unfair I had to lose him twice_."

She hadn't known what to say but she'd walked over to him and rubbed his back. 

"_I know_." she whispered, "_I know_." 

--

"Remus?" she asked, glancing over to where he was wrapped up on the couch.

"Remus, do you miss him?"

He didn't miss a beat and she almost felt her lips crease at his wide eyes and watery smile.

"Every day."

She nodded.

"Good."


End file.
